Banzai! | Page 6

growled Webster ill-humoredly. "A creature like that
doesn't see or hear a thing."
The colonel glared at Webster, and then noisily mixed his drink.
Harryman and Parrington walked along the quay in silence, their steps
resounding loudly in the stillness of the night. On the other side of the
street fleeting shadows showed at the lighted windows of several
harbor dens, over the entrance to which hung murky lamps and from
which loud voices issued, proving that all was still in full swing there.
There were only a few more steps to the spot where the yellow circle of
light from the lanterns rendered the white uniforms of the sailors in the
two boats visible. Parrington stood still. "Harryman," he said, repeating
his former question, "do you believe there is danger----"
"I don't know, I really don't know," said Harryman nervously. Then,
seizing Parrington's hands, he continued hurriedly, but in a low voice:
"For days I have been living as if in a trance. It is as if I were lying in
the delirium of fever; my head burns and my thoughts always return to
the same spot, boring and burrowing; I feel as though a horrible eye
were fixed on me from whose glance I cannot escape. I feel that I may
at any moment awake from the trance, and that the awakening will be
still more dreadful."
"You're feverish, Harryman; you're ill, and you'll infect others. You
must take some quinine." With these words Parrington climbed into his

gig, the sailors gave way with the oars, and the boat rushed through the
water and disappeared into the darkness, where the bow oarsman was
silhouetted against the pale yellow light of the boat's lantern like a
strange phantom.
Harryman looked musingly after the boat of the Mindoro for a few
minutes, and murmured: "He certainly has no fever which quinine will
not cure." Then he got into his own boat, which also soon disappeared
into the sultry summer night, while the dark water splashed and gurgled
against the planks. The high quay wall, with its row of yellow and
white lights, remained behind, and gradually sank down to the water
line. They rowed past the side of a huge English steamer, which sent
back the splash of the oars in a strange hollow echo, and then across to
the Monadnock.
Harryman could not sleep, and joined the officer on duty on the bridge,
where the slight breeze which came from the mountains afforded a little
coolness.
* * * * *
On board the Mindoro Parrington had found orders to take the relief
guard for the wireless telegraph station to Mariveles the next morning.
At six o'clock the little gunboat had taken the men on board, and was
now steering across the blue Bay of Manila toward the little rocky
island of Corregidor, which had recently been strongly fortified, and
which lies like a block of stone between gigantic mountain wings in the
very middle of the entrance to the Bay of Manila. Under a gray sail,
which served as a slight protection from the sun, the soldiers squatted
sullenly on their kits. Some were asleep, others stared over the railing
into the blue, transparent water that rippled away in long waves before
the bow of the little vessel. From the open skylight of the engine room
sounded the sharp beat of the engine, and the smell of hot oil spread
over the deck, making the burning heat even more unbearable.
Parrington stood on the bridge and through his glass examined the
steep cliffs at the entrance to the bay, and the bizarre forms of the little
volcanic islands.

Except for a few fishing boats with their brown sails, not a ship was to
be seen on the whole expanse of the water. The gunboat now turned
into the northern entrance, and the long, glistening guns in the
fortifications of Corregidor became visible. Up above, on the batteries
hewn in the rocks, not a living soul could be seen, but below, on the
little platform where the signal-post stood near the northern battery, an
armed sentry marched up and down. Parrington called out to the
signalman near him: "Send this signal across to Corregidor: 'We are
going to relieve the wireless telegraph detachment at Mariveles, and
shall call at Corregidor on our way back.'" The Corregidor battery
answered the signal, and informed Parrington that Colonel Prettyman
expected him for lunch later on. Slowly the Mindoro crept along the
coast to the rocky Bay of Mariveles, where, before the few neglected
houses of the place, the guard of the wireless telegraph station, which
stood on the heights of Sierra de Mariveles, was awaiting the arrival of
the gunboat.
The Mindoro was made fast to the pier. The exchange of men took
place